


Play Time

by FreyaOdin



Series: Talent [3]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anal Sex, Edgeplay, M/M, Mild Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: The finale—climax even—of the Talent series. Read Talented Tongue and Payback first.





	

**In case you want Mitch’s visuals of Scott’s outfit during this whole…thing.**

 

 

It’s going to take _for-fucking-ever_.

Mitch is honestly having a tough time deciding which of his kinks is being hit hardest right now. Between the hand teasing at his balls but denying any real pleasure, the other hand clamped around the back of his neck holding him in place, and the fact that he’s sprawled helplessly naked under Scott’s substantially larger, fully clothed frame, Mitch is going the fuck _through it_.

This situation is entirely Mitch’s own fault, of course. His tongue fidgeting had started out subconsciously, innocently even. But once he’d realized how much more fun it would be to rile Scott up rather than continue double-tapping his way through the same old Instagram pics, he’d known exactly what he was doing and what he’d be in for if it worked.

And did it ever work. Scott was a distracted mess in the green room, shifting and trying to hide his erection and then all-out eye-fucking Mitch once he finally figured out the game. He managed to pull himself together enough to give a decent interview, but then basically stalked Mitch all around the bus and the restaurant they’d had dinner at afterwards in a way he probably thought was subtle but in reality was most decidedly _not_.

Mitch is actually _really_ fond of the role of prey when Scott’s doing the stalking; he especially enjoys being caught and devoured, preferably slowly. But his current predicament of being the dinner Scott is playing with instead of partaking is a bit...frustrating.

To say the least.

Scott’s free hand trails back up his body, coming to rest with his thumb pressing into Mitch’s labelled collarbone and his fingers splayed across his throat. A Saint Laurent-clad leg is sprawled across Mitch’s thighs, pinning down his involuntary thrusts. His other hand is still under Mitch’s neck, tilting his head back, the stretch forcing Mitch’s lips to part as surely as applying mascara ever has. He’s leaning over him, staring down at him, and his gaze is flickering between Mitch’s eyes and mouth and—once Mitch tilts to accentuate it even further— the arc of his neck. Mitch considers it a success when Scott wets his lips and bites the bottom one.

“Please,” Mitch whispers without meaning to.

Scott’s expression shifts, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a snarl. “Not yet.” And then he’s licking into Mitch’s mouth, drinking in Mitch’s dismayed moan, biting gently at his lips and tongue.

Fuck.

Mitch can’t lie passively any longer. He transfers the death grip he has on the bed sheet to Scott’s thigh and the one in Scott’s shirt to his hair, enjoying the hiss he elicits by pulling blond locks just a fraction too hard. He squirms a little, not to dislodge the leg holding him down but to really appreciate the weight of it doing so.

Scott clearly _likes_ the squirming. He breaks the kiss and sucks in a harsh breath, almost growling on the exhale. The hand on the back of Mitch’s neck clamps harder, making Mitch shudder, even as his other palm smooths back down Mitch’s torso, toying with his nipple. He glances down, licking his lips again before ghosting them over to Mitch’s ear. “Promised you I’d play, didn’t I?”

Oh. Oh _shit_.

After a quick bite of Mitch’s earlobe, Scott is moving, licking and nibbling his way down Mitch’s throat, spending some time tracing the lettering on his collarbone with his tongue before zeroing in on that nipple. He dives right in, suckling as hard as he can and the pressure has Mitch tugging at his hair with his other hand too. Scott moans, shifting at the sting, and the change in position slides Mitch’s forlorn cock across a rip in his jeans—fuck those jeans with their course edges and the contrast of smooth warm skin underneath—and Mitch can’t help arching his back and whining with need.

He’s not going to survive this. He already feels like there’s not enough air in the room and Scott’s just getting _started_.

The asshole knows it, too. Mitch can see him smiling into his skin as he kisses across his chest before planting his lips around his other nipple and sucking for all he’s worth. It forces another whine out of Mitch’s throat and a deep, painful throb in his cock and suddenly he’s had enough. He can’t take it anymore and reaches down to take matters into his own hands. If Scott won’t get him off then he’ll do it himself.

But he only manages to brush across his leaking tip before Scott is grabbing at his wrist, tsking at him like he’s a misbehaving child.

“No, baby. Don’t ruin my fun.” He turns Mitch’s hand over in his own, smiling at the hint of pre-come he finds on his fingers and then _licking it off_.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_ , Mitch is going to _die_.

Or at least turn into a desperate, babbling mess. “Please. Please, daddy. Please I need you. Please touch me. I can’t— I need you. Please, Scott. _Please_.”

“I’ll get you there,” Scott promises, blowing cool air across Mitch’s nipple and smiling as it tightens even further. “ _Soon_.”

What the fuck? Is he kidding? Mitch’s head jerks up off the pillow to glare at him. He did _not_ just— “Oh my God, fuck you! I will fucking _end_ you!”

“You could,” Scott agrees, casually starting to lick his way farther down Mitch’s torso, fingers still tight around Mitch’s wrist. “But then who would _fuck_ you?”

Fucking smug unrepentant prick who… has a solid point. Speaking of solid: “Are you hard yet?”

Scott pauses his licking briefly. “Not yet, baby.”

He looks reasonably regretful, and Mitch is by no means an expert on deception, but he can read the entire school of Scott Hoying Body Language and Micro Expressions like a goddamn book and that flicker of _smug_ around his mouth reveals the fucking _lie_. He’s either already hard as a rock or well on his way, which means he’s prolonging Mitch’s agony now just because he _can_.

Mitch tightens the grip he still has in Scott’s hair, tilting his head back to look at him. “Get your fucking dick in me!”

The subtle tell of smugness becomes and all out smirk. “Not _yet_ , baby.”

Scott reaches up and dislodges Mitch’s fingers from his hair, transferring his hold so that both of Mitch’s wrists are gripped in one big hand. Then he levers himself up and repositions so he’s kneeling between Mitch’s thighs, shoving them further apart as he does so. He squeezes Mitch’s wrists one more time in an implied order to be good before releasing them to fall helplessly back onto the bed. And then Mitch is back to squirming as Scott plants both hands on his shoulders and roughly drags them all the way down his chest and sides before latching onto his hips and yanking his ass up to rest in Scott’s lap.

Fuck, he’s big and beautiful and back in control and Mitch snaps right back into his previous mindset with a high-pitched whine. He’s spread wide, vulnerable and open to anything Scott wants to do. The denim is rough against the skin of his ass and Scott’s fingers are feather light, running up the inside of his thighs and tracing the creases where his legs meet his groin, his thumbs ghosting over Mitch’s balls. Mitch’s cock is hard and leaking and waving helplessly in the air with each involuntary twitch. He has to clench his own fingers deep into the sheets in a futile attempt to keep from shattering apart.

Scott is staring at him, blue eyes darkening under heavy lids. He licks his lips and his hands smooth over Mitch’s hips and then under. His shoulders tense and suddenly Mitch is tilting back, hips lifting as Scott folds himself over and closes his lips around the tip of Mitch’s straining cock. It’s completely unexpected and Mitch can’t even begin to process how turned on he is by both the manhandling and the sudden wet heat. The whine he hisses through clenched teeth borders on an overwhelmed scream.

He’s so close. He’s so _close_.

Scott drops his cock from his mouth and tilts his head up just far enough to make eye contact and Mitch whimpers at the rough, feral stare. And then his tongue comes out—that same broad tongue of countless goofy selfies—and swipes up the entire length of Mitch’s cock. He smiles at Mitch’s whimper and laps at his head, once, twice, three times before sitting up, straightening out his back with a casual stretch and head tilt to either side, relaxing Mitch’s ass back into his lap.

Mitch is going to spontaneously combust. “Please. Please. Fuck, _please_.”

One big hand is warm on his thigh again, thumb caressing over his balls and down to tease at his perineum. The other smooths over Mitch’s quivering belly to rest on his sternum, pressing him down into the mattress. “Please what, baby?”

Mitch is tugging at the sheets under him, desperate for anything that will relieve the pressure in his aching dick and balls. Scott _promised_. He promised he’d get to come, just that he’d do it around his— “Fuck me. Please. Please fuck me, Scott. Need your cock. C’mon daddy, fill me up. _Please._ ”

Mitch isn’t actually in control of his babbling and he’ll probably be embarrassed as hell later by how desperate he sounds. But he also knows that begging is one of _Scott’s_ biggest kinks and if pleading like the messy, horny girl that he is gets him that fat cock even one second sooner, it’ll all be more than worth it.

Scott bites his lip and hums. He slides his thumb down over Mitch’s hole, circling it gently. “You think you want it enough, Mitchy? Think you’ve earned it?”

Mitch is squirming again, rutting his cock in the air and his ass into Scott’s lap. It’s forcing Scott’s thumb to just slightly breach him and the denim is still rubbing against his skin and _fuck_ Mitch needs _more_.

Thankfully, Scott finally seems to be on board with that plan. The hand pinning Mitch’s sternum lets go to reach for the bottle of lube Mitch hadn’t noticed him fetching, and soon Mitch is hissing at the cool liquid dribbling over his balls and down his crack. Scott’s thumb disappears but is quickly replaced by wet fingers, one of which slides all the way into him on the first thrust. Scott other hand grabs his dick and gives a few agonizingly sweet jerks before letting go again, leaving Mitch panting.

Scott smiles and does it again as he slides in a second big finger. Edging. Fuck. Mitch has always had a bit of a thing for edging but right now he’s caught between craving that hand on his cock and despising it. Which, yeah, that’s the entire point but fuck he’s going to die any second now.

He’s also starting to plot revenge. The thought of Scott cuffed to their bed at home, straining and whining under the agony of prolonged edging is a pretty fucking picture. Maybe blindfolded and gagged so he can’t use those eyes or Mitch’s tendency to obey him to cheat his way out of it.

Mitch tears himself away from the image because, yeah, that’s not helping his situation right now.

A crook of those fingers in just the right place and another few strokes of his cock have Mitch begging again, though even he can’t follow what he’s saying this time. Whatever it is seems to work because Scott is pulling his hands away, sliding Mitch’s hips back to the bed and reaching for his own fly.

Fucking _finally._

Mitch watches, lightheaded, as Scott pulls his cock out. But as he stands up so he can more easily strip, Mitch manages to scrabble together enough brain cells for a coherent thought. “Leave them on.”

Scott freezes and looks at him. “What?”

“Your jeans,” Mitch clarifies, licking his lips. “Leave them on.”

“Candice will kill me if I ruin these.”

Mitch arches his back and runs his hands down his own chest and over his hips. “I don’t care. We can wash them or replace them or whatever. Come fuck me with those jeans on, Scotty.”

“Yeah.” Scott says, swallowing audibly. He climbs back onto the bed and over Mitch. “Yeah okay.”

A quick application of lube later and Scott’s tilting Mitch’s hips back and sliding right in. Mitch grabs his shoulders and exhales in harsh, moaned gasps as he’s filled in one long, slow thrust.

Fuck. Fuck, _yes_.

It's so good. Scott on top of him and inside him and the rasp of course denim against his inner thighs. It’s all one gigantic turn on. But Mitch wants... No, Mitch needs skin. He slides his hands around to the top button of Scott’s grandad collar, glancing up at him and waiting.

Scott slowly withdraws an inch or so and then slides back in, grinding his hips down into Mitch's as he does so.  He hums appreciatively. "Mmm yeah, go ahead."

Mitch manages the small buttons quickly, even with trembling fingers. He has to yank the bottom half of the extra-long shirt up from where it's caught between them, despite Scott pushing himself up to help, but soon enough it's all the way open and he can spread it wide and appreciate the full expanse of pale, freckled skin looming over him.

Scott's holding relatively still, just rocking himself slightly in and out. It's good and perfect and Mitch can't help but trace his fingers over his abs and up his pecs and collarbones. He pushes at the left side of Scott's shirt so it's hanging off his shoulder, letting him admire the top of that beautiful sleeve. Scott tilts so Mitch can take it all the way off, but Mitch shakes his head. He looks good like this, open white cotton making his pale skin look darker and setting off the tat. Fuck yes, daddy. _Hot._

Scott smiles and Mitch doesn't even have to question why. They both have more than enough practice to be able to easily recognize when they've stumbled onto yet another kink for either one or both of them. Scott re-centers his weight and lowers himself to his elbows, big hands sliding under Mitch and splaying across his shoulder blades. And, shit. Mitch is now basically being cradled while his dick is sliding along Scott’s smooth skin and happy trail and those bright blue eyes are staring into his own. He lifts his head to capture Scott's lips and Scott happily obliges, deepening both the kiss and the length of his thrusts.

This? This is not going to take very long. He's clutching at Scott's shoulders, both covered and bare, and trying to ground himself while groaning into Scott's mouth, which turns into a whimper when Scott grazes his prostate. Scott breaks the kiss to check on him, grinning when he realizes the cause of his response. He trails his lips along Mitch’s jaw and hoists himself slightly higher along Mitch’s body. The movement digs the fly of his jeans deeper into Mitch’s tender thigh—which yes, okay yes _that_ —but more importantly it shifts the angle of his cock until he's not just grazing but jamming into Mitch's prostate with each thrust and Mitch is arching his back and crying out.

“That’s it,” Scott whispers, directly in Mitch’s ear. “That’s what you need, isn’t it baby?”

Fuck it is. It’s exactly everything that Mitch is ever going to need. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Scott bites his earlobe and then traces his lips over Mitch’s cheekbone. “Want to feel you come. Hear you.” He pauses and nuzzles their noses together before groaning. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You’re beautiful no matter what you’re doing, but God I think you writhing on my cock might be my favorite.”

Probably Mitch’s favorite too, if he’s being honest. They should probably keep testing it, just to make sure.

Scott’s pace picks up and his rhythm starts getting sloppier. It’s good to know he hasn’t been entirely unaffected while torturing Mitch almost to the point of insanity, but sloppy or not, it’s working for Mitch. He can feel his balls tightening and his cock swelling and he’s grunting with every push of Scott’s cock past his prostate and clawing at every pull that brings those broad shoulders closer to him and Scott’s whispering encouraging nonsense in his ear and his breath is hot on his neck and his scruff is tickling his jaw and it’s all fucking amazing but not quite enough and Mitch whimpers in frustration.

Scott groans, deep in his chest. “Come for me, Mitchy.” He breathes in his ear. “C’mon, baby. Scream for me.”

That? That does it. Mitch’s entire body seizes up as his vision whites out and a hoarse yell spills from his throat, which Scott swoops in to swallow with a deep kiss. Mitch can’t reciprocate it because he’s too busy shaking apart and wondering if it’s possible to survive coming this hard and not really caring about the answer because holy fucking shit _, yes_.

He’s vaguely aware of Scott panting harshly and ramming into him—oh, hell yes, keep going, so good—only a few more times before he’s also shuddering and spilling inside him, burying his own shout in the same one-sided kiss.

Mitch doesn’t think he actually passes out, but there’s a definite moment where he couldn’t fucking care less what was happening around him and once he sort of does again, Scott has gentled the kiss and is smoothing a warning hand up his side and slowly pulling out.

Ngh. Okay. Whatever. He does eventually manage to start participating in the kiss, but it’s half-hearted at best. He can feel Scott’s smile against his lips.

He’s is still pretty out of it when he Scott leaves the bed. Some time passes, he’s not sure how much. He thinks he hears the bathtub running at one point, not long enough to fill it but maybe enough to soak something. Then Scott is back, pantless now but still draped in his white shirt, and he’s running a warm cloth over Mitch, cleaning him up and kissing a few random spots along his torso. Mitch shivers as the air chills his dampened skin and even as he curls onto his side for warmth he’s being covered by a thick, comfortable bedspread. Scott disappears for another minute or two and then the bed dips and a warm, naked body slides in behind him. Scott curls into the bigger spoon, but Mitch decides that’s not satisfactory and rolls over, shoving Scott onto his back and sprawling half on top of him.

Long arms wrap around him and a kiss is pressed to the top of his head. “I think the jeans are a write off.”

Mitch hums. “Worth it.”

That draws a chuckle. “Easy for you to say. I’m the one who’s going to have to explain why I can’t wear them anymore.”

“You’re a big boy,” Mitch sighs, well on his way to sleep. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Mmm,” Scott says, readjusting Mitch’s leg across him to something that must be more comfortable. Mitch feels another kiss pressed into his hair. “Goodnight, baby.”

Yeah. Mitch sighs in contentment, flicking his tongue out one last time across warm skin, smiling as Scott shudders. “Goodnight.”

 

**Thoughts?**

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to http://fashionofptx.tumblr.com for being a continuously awesome resource for my fashion-ignorant ass.


End file.
